


"It's what the guys do for their girls."

by Bounteous



Series: a bunch of goddamn, teenage cliches [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Zuko (Avatar), Disabled Character, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hard of Hearing Zuko (Avatar), M/M, Partially Blind Zuko (Avatar), Romantic Fluff, Sokka (Avatar) Has ADHD, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Zuko (Avatar)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bounteous/pseuds/Bounteous
Summary: Sokka gives Zuko his varsity jacket.Don't let the title mislead you, it's a lot gayer than it sounds.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: a bunch of goddamn, teenage cliches [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891558
Comments: 43
Kudos: 805





	"It's what the guys do for their girls."

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies, this is more expository than anything as the informal introduction to this new series  
> The only thing you need to know (because I couldn't find a suitable spot in which to casually mention this) is that Zuko is a senior in high school along with Sokka because it makes sense in my head for him to have taken a year off of school to, ya know, ~cope with his trauma~. So, yes, he is still a year older.  
> Also, I'm from the midwest, so everything I write will always be coded that way : )

Sports are decidedly  _ not  _ Zuko’s thing. Not to claim that he’s not athletic. Because he  _ is.  _ He’s practiced Kung Fu since he could walk. However, he’s since given it up as a competition in favor of working out at Master Piandao’s dojo once a week. The reasons why are shrouded in trauma and that’s that on that. 

Anyway, teamwork is a thing Zuko struggles with, the idea of people watching him potentially fumble and fail gives him anxiety, and the kind of people the sports culture attracts are not his kind of people (in all fairness, he hasn’t exactly figured out who his kind of people are, yet).

Perhaps he’s simply too much of an introvert to enjoy them the way they’re meant to be enjoyed. Or it may be the fact that he’s currently a spectator, not a participant, and it’s all kinds of inconvenient for him. One, Zuko despises the cold and these bleachers freeze his ass off every single time because there’s never anywhere to stand with a good view. Two, everyone is always screaming so loud that he has to manually adjust his hearing aid volume beforehand. And, three, he doesn’t drive yet, so he has to sit in a dingy minivan while his uncle drives ten under the speed limit and parks in full view of where every one of his fellow peers can see. 

He doesn’t have the heart to explain to Iroh why he wants him to park further back, so he just sucks it up even though Jet, the asshole that he is, always waits, leaning against the ticket booth all cocky and smug, to make fun of him for it (it’s not an issue Zuko needs any help with, he can handle Jet just fine).

Yet, he attends these games anyway because, somehow, his minuscule presence in the stands makes his boyfriend so unbelievably happy. And Zuko, honest-to-Spirits, would do anything to make Sokka happy. Even if that means suffering two hours of watching him run around the football field, utterly clueless as to when to cheer and when to boo. At least his ass looks great in those tight pants.

He can’t really complain, it’s not as if he has to sit here alone. Pressed up against one side of him is Toph (who is blind and high school football games don’t have announcers, but joining in when everyone else is yelling in anger is cathartic for her, apparently), one hand wrapped around his arm even though they aren’t walking anywhere, and on the other side is Aang (who is, quite possibly, the most eccentric kid he’s ever met and irritatingly optimistic), a respectable distance away because it’d probably be awkward to be leaning against him when his girlfriend is already leaning against him. Katara (Sokka’s younger sister. Aang’s girlfriend. Fiercely protective and hated Zuko with a burning passion only a year ago.) is, arguably, the only one who actually cares about the game. Arguably because her brother is the running back and not caring just isn’t in her nature. 

They have other friends, Suki, Mai, and Ty Lee (sometimes, Zuko thinks about what it’d be like if Azula joined this semester instead of next), but Suki is on the varsity cheer squad currently pumping up the student section with various chants as her pom-poms shimmer in the fluorescent stadium lighting. Ty Lee is somewhere on the sidelines with her dance team warming up for half-time. Mai never shows up to games, and if she really wanted to watch her girlfriend dance, Ty Lee has absolutely no shame in performing her entire routine in a gas station parking lot. 

Zuko winces when Toph yells, this time cheering in tandem with the rest of the crowd. He really should switch so she isn’t on his left anymore, but she prefers the outside seats for whatever reason and he isn’t about to argue with her.

“I have no fucking clue what just happened,” she admits, turning in anticipation for Katara to explain as she always does.

“Sokka just ran, like, half the field,” she says, slightly breathless.

Zuko, with his one good eye, searches the sea of jerseys until he spots the number forty-one in the line-up, sprinting with inhuman speed as the play begins. He’s not quite sure what he’s watching, only that Sokka has the ball one second and doesn’t the next as he passes it to another player, effectively earning yet another touchdown for their team. 

It’s not a particularly exciting match considering they’re already ahead by almost twenty whole points and it’s barely even the start of the second quarter, but Zuko has found that, in a small town like this, high school sports are religion to those adults who grew up here and never left. He’s not exactly sure what he wants out of life just yet, but spending his afternoons and weekends waiting tables at his uncle’s diner doesn’t sit right when he considers how his life might look doing that forever. 

Call him a sap, but in every single one of those scenarios, Sokka is always there next to him, supporting him (but Sokka has big plans, constantly shifting and changing, for Ba Sing Se University and Zuko might be so much a lovesick fool that he’d follow him all the way there).

Half-time comes and goes, Zuko and Katara taking the time to speak with the siblings’ father, and then the game finally ends with a twenty-four point lead in their school’s favor. The crowd disperses as Zuko waits with the others along the chainlink fence where the rest of the friends and family all wait for their own child. 

Sokka is always the last the leave, his mouth unable to stop running even long after his body has. Sometimes, Zuko thinks his name should be the definition of a team player. Regardless of his ADHD and his incessant need to talk to anyone willing to listen, Sokka is always checking in with his teammates. Asking if they’re okay after a particularly hard tackle, going through different techniques and listening to every individual standpoint, even just simply telling them an earnest “great job out there!”. Although, it’s not as if Zuko isn’t aware that a deep, highly insecure part of his boyfriend constantly puts others first as a desperate attempt to prove his worth. 

Zuko watches as a group of children sprint up and down the track, carefree, and having the time of their lives. It tugs on something painful inside of him, something akin to nostalgia but more like a longing for something he never got to have. His eyes follow the muddy sneakers, small and untied, racing along on the asphalt until they land on a familiar pair of grass-stained cleats.

“Did you forget your other shoes again?” Zuko asks, eyes sliding up to Sokka’s face.

A face that is covered in sweat and smeared facepaint, but absolutely and positively radiant with joy and pride. For as much time as he took, he’s only taken off his padding and replaced his jersey with an old Pride t-shirt and his blue varsity jacket. Zuko knows he usually wears his hair down, held back and away from his face by a headband when he wears his helmet, but he must have casually thrown it up at some point into his typical wolf-tail style. 

As much as he must stink, all Zuko wants to do is smoosh his face into his boyfriend’s chest and tell him how amazed he is.

That’s exactly what he does.

Sokka lets out a small “hmph!” as Zuko’s form barrels into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. So, Zuko is just slightly too tall to smoosh his face into his boyfriend’s chest when they’re both standing, but he settles for wrapping his arms around his neck and smooshing his face into his shoulder instead. 

“You were amazing out there, by the way,” he says, voice muffled and full of genuine adoration.

Sokka’s grin brightens as he returns the hug, arms almost crushing Zuko’s waist. “Eh, there was some stuff I could’ve done better. And, yes, I did forget my other shoes. Again.”

A long time ago, Zuko never would’ve dared to be this public with his affection. Sokka’s heart constricts remembering the way his boyfriend used to be, all brooding and angry and  _ broken _ . He’s still all those things, but now he’s so much more and, spirits, does he wish Zuko could just see himself the way he sees him.

_ You are more than your upbringing. _

_ You are more than your father’s insults. _

_ You are more than your sister’s taunting and bragging. _

_ You are  _ good  _ in every sense of the word. _

But that’s a little heavy for post-match banter.

“You really took your time in there, Sokka, everybody’s already gone home now,” Katara interrupts, rolling her eyes as her brother  _ nuzzles  _ into his boyfriend. Nevermind the fact that she and Aang are attached at the hip and have been since middle school.

She receives an eye roll back even as Sokka reluctantly removes himself from Zuko’s grip. Before his boyfriend can protest, as minutely as he does in the presence of other people, Sokka’s arm is around his shoulder and steering him to walk as the group heads out.

“Yeah, yeah, you know that kid that got injured right after half-time?”

Zuko remembers. The kid, whoever he was, had been at the bottom of a pile-up and did not get back up. Medics rushed out to the field as all the players kneeled in conjunction and the crowd’s silence was somehow more deafening than anything. He couldn’t tell exactly what was wrong, but they’d been checking his leg until he’d been wheeled off in a gurney and the game resumed. 

“I was making sure he was okay and filling him on everything that happened while he was gone.” Sokka rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling. “And then we kinda just kept talking.” 

It’s not a bad thing and he’s doing much better than the year following the… incident, but sometimes Zuko simply tunes out of conversations. It’s not a coping mechanism and it’s not because his social energy has depleted (it has, but that’s not why). Sometimes, Zuko just likes hearing. Not listening, hearing. He likes to be involved, but not active. It’s… a strange concept that nobody but Sokka can seem to grasp. And, even then, Sokka doesn’t really grasp it so much as he doesn’t question. 

Point is, Zuko doesn’t fully bring himself back into awareness until he feels the weight of something warm and heavy draping over his shoulders. Sokka’s varsity jacket. It’s still crisp and new, having only been given to the seniors at the start of the season, but Sokka’s already made it his own. Several pins dot the collar and front where their school’s logo is placed and Zuko already feels dizzy with the overwhelming scent of his boyfriend flooding his nostrils. 

“You gotta stop wearing such thin hoodies, dude,” Sokka admonishes him softly. “Even my manly body heat couldn’t keep you warm enough.”

Zuko raises a brow, pulling away momentarily. “‘Manly body heat’? What are you, twelve?”

“Only in maturity!” 

They slot their hands together in perfect harmony, trekking to the back of the parking lot where Sokka’s shitty truck is parked. It’s rusted and a taillight has been busted for approximately three months (Sokka genuinely keeps forgetting to mention it to his dad) and the lights no longer blink on when they enter and exit, but it’s got a certain charm to it that really does it for Zuko (or it might be the fact that their first time happened in this truck’s very bed after prom the previous year). There’s a lot of memories attached to this thing, okay.

Zuko leans his head against the icy chill of the window, watching with hooded lids as the passing street lamps bask Sokka in their orange glow. The poet would call him ethereal, the teenager would call him hot, the fool might even call him the love of his life. All Zuko can manage in his sleepy state is a lovesick gaze that Sokka catches with a tiny smirk.

How in the world could he have gotten so lucky? It genuinely eludes him. Those are the thoughts that plague him at night as lingering touches tingle against his lips, his brow, his hands. And all he can do is blush, hide the gushing smile in the scratchy sheets of his twin bed, and attempt to fall asleep to pleasant memories. 

He’s almost completely asleep when he feels the truck jolt to a stop.

“Am I gonna have to carry you inside, Sleeping Beauty?” Sokka jokes, but his eyes hold such softness for his boyfriend’s form crumpled adorably in his seat. 

“Uncle would never let me live it down.” He stretches as much as he can in the cramped space and then leans over to plant a sweet, soft peck to his boyfriend’s cheek before opening the passenger door. “Oh! Your jacket, I’m still wearing it.”

He stops, one foot halfway out, already moving to take it off until Sokka stops him with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“Keep it. I want you to keep it.”

Shock and confusion ripple across Zuko’s pale face. “What? Why? It’s your  _ varsity  _ jacket, Sokka.”

“Exactly. It’s… it’s kind of a big deal, I guess. It’s what the guys do for their girls, you know? And I know you’re not a girl because the way I just worded it was some extremely hetero bullshit, but it’s just, you know, to let everyone know we’re together… and stuff.”

Sokka rarely makes himself blush with his own words, but it’s happening and Zuko is… so fucking in love with him his heart hurts. So fucking in love with him that he wants to tell him so, but he gets embarrassed saying cute things like that, so all he replies with is, “Okay, I’ll wear it, then.”

The way Sokka’s face lights up, the way his smile spreads to either side of his stupidly handsome face will forever be ingrained in Zuko’s memory.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, c’mere and let me kiss you silly.”

“Kiss me ‘silly’. The way you word things, I swear.”

But Zuko is already leaning over for a kiss of a thousand words, the weight of his new jacket a comfort in the chilly air.


End file.
